


Creature Feature

by sharkinterviewee



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: AU collection, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Cross-Cryptid Romance, Cryptids, Demon Hunters, Demons, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gargoyles, Harpies, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Mermaids, Mythical Beings & Creatures, One Shot Collection, Werewolves, jackalopes, we've got demons and mermaids and more on the way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-02-08 06:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21471526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkinterviewee/pseuds/sharkinterviewee
Summary: “I was here first. You’re the one who decided to make my roof your perch,” the woman says coldly.Peter’s reply is automatic. “I don’t see your name on it,” he shoots back, finally landing on one of the jutting planks, a comfortable distance between them. It is a very nice roof.Gamora stares at him in almost disbelief. “I was already there!” She defends. “My name doesn’t have to be on it when it’s already clearly takenby me.”Peter cocks his head to the side, looking more like a bird than his feathery wings already implied.He takes a moment to scan the rest of the roof, his eyes lighting up when he realizes the change in scenery and makes the connection.Then, he narrows his eyes, and Gamora can’t tell if he looks annoyed or offended. “Wait, have you just been pretending to be a statue for the past 45 minutes?”
Relationships: Gamora/Peter Quill
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fic summary is updated to the most recent chapter summary whenever a new one is posted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter groaned, running a frazzled hand through his hair. Damn automatic locking door. There was no way out of the room other than the hole Gamora found that was way too small for a person. Maybe a small two year old had a chance of getting through it. Not them. Definitely not them.
> 
> They were so fucked. When they were inevitably caught the next morning- shit, this was such a bad idea. Peter knew he'd be able to swipe the key from the security guard without getting caught if he wasn't trapped in this damn room.
> 
> This is _not_ how date night was supposed to go.
> 
> He could practically hear Gamora cursing the fact that werewolves couldn’t teleport, because that was the type of cryptid abilities they could use right about now.
> 
> Sure, Gamora could take on just about anyone in a fight, but shifting into a wolf would not get them out of this situation.
> 
> Even though he could hear her growling under her breath, she didn’t even think to ask him if he had any abilities that would help them get out.
> 
> He still hadn’t told her what he was.

Peter groaned, running a frazzled hand through his hair. Damn automatic locking door. There was no way out of the room other than the hole Gamora found that was way too small for a person. Maybe a small two year old had a chance of getting through it.

They were so fucked. When they were inevitably caught the next morning- shit, this was such a bad idea. Peter knew he’d be able to swipe the key from the security guard without getting caught if he wasn’t trapped in this damn room. This is _not _how date night was supposed to go.

He could practically hear Gamora cursing the fact that werewolves couldn’t teleport, because that was the type of cryptid abilities they could use right about now.

Sure, Gamora could take on just about anyone in a fight, but shifting into a wolf would not get them out of this situation.

Even though he could hear her growling under her breath, she didn’t even think to ask him if he had any abilities that would help them get out.

He still hadn’t told her what he was.

She knew he was some sort of creature- they had met at the academy after all, the one that only had creatures, cryptids, and other mythical beings attending.

Gamora had just written his secrecy off as another Peter Quill quirk. Sure, she was curious, and she asked around back when they first met, but no one at the academy had any idea what Quill was.

She wasn’t exactly thinking about that right now, though. Just trying to figure a way out of this.

Peter scrubbed his eyes. Desperate times called for desperate measures, right? Last resort.

Gamora looked over at the rather dramatic sigh he huffed out, about to snap at him for getting them into this mess and being no help at all right now, but something about his expression made her pause. He looked so withered, defeated. It was actually concerning.

Before she could voice any of her concern, Peter looked up at her. “Don’t give me any shit for this, okay?”

Then, he shifted.

Gamora blinked, truly shocked to see her boyfriend replaced by a cute little rabbit with antlers.

Before she could react or even process what just happened, he was already shimmying out the hole that was too small for a child, but maneuverable for a rabbit with antlers.

Then he was just gone.

* * *

He knew that his sticky fingers wasn’t what people were usually talking about when asked about talents and skills, but it did come in handy an awful lot.

After nabbing a key, Peter was on his way back to the room that Gamora was still stuck in not 10 minutes later. In his human form, of course.

He swiftly unlocked the door and opened it to a highly unamused Gamora standing on the other side.

She didn’t say anything.

He didn’t either.

They didn’t need any prompting to get out of there as soon as possible, though. They made their retreat in silence. Peter let the key slip out of his hands, dropping it in the hallway. When it was discovered, the guard would just assume it fell off their belt. None the wiser as to this little late night escapade. 

* * *

Or, at least, that was the plan. Until Gamora yanked him behind a corner by the back of his collar, alerted to the presence of the patrolling guard blocking their only exit.

She gave him a stern look, like ‘great, now what do we do’, doubtful that he had any more tricks up his sleeve.

Fortunately, he did.

He had only brought the walky talky with the intention of monitoring the security frequencies, but might as well, right? Gamora already saw the rest of it. He slipped further back into the shadows, gaining a little more distance before turning the radio on and dialing into the right frequency.

Gamora’s eyes widened as she proceeded to watch Peter perfectly mimic the voice of another security guard they had overheard earlier, asking for assistance in the west wing. Aka the other side of the building.

It worked like a charm. The guard blocking the door was lured away by the voice of his colleague on the radio, and their exit was free and clear.

They waited a minute before leaving their hiding place, just in case.

Then they slipped out the doors and into the night.

* * *

Later, at home, Gamora sat on the couch, pouting. Her brow was furrowed, looking very disgruntled in that adorable little kid way.

Peter would be tempted to kiss her cute face if he didn’t know better than to mess with an unhappy Gamora.

“What is it?” He already knew. Still, he asked anyway.

Gamora glared over at him, still looking like a fussy three year old. “I’m upset,” she said, crossing her arms and pouting harder.

His shoulders slumped. “Cause of the whole-” he made a vague motion over his head in regards to the antlers. Her finding out what creature he was.

He knew this was coming. It was such a stupid, petty secret to keep. And of course she found out in the worst way. Not because he voluntarily disclosed what he’d always kept hidden before, but because they were trapped in a dumb room with no escape.

“Yes. You looked so soft!” Gamora threw her hands up in frustration. “We’ve been dating for a year and you haven’t let me cuddle you even _once,” _she glowered at him.

Peter almost choked in his surprise.

“That- that’s it? You’re not mad cause- the rest of it?”

Gamora scowled. “I’m _mad _because you’re _cute_, and I still didn’t get to feel how soft you were!”

* * *

It took some convincing, but after all this time together, Peter had learned to stay on Gamora’s good side. If shifting and letting her… pet him was all it took to make up for how badly that night went and the whole keeping secrets from your awesome werewolf girlfriend just because you happened to be a cryptid on the slightly more adorable side- well, he couldn’t really say no, could he?

Gamora couldn’t hide her thrill at the transformation, and soon enough her fingers were running through the softest fur in the world.

“Can I- your antlers?” She asked permission, wanting to touch them too, but waiting for him to grant it first, in case that would be too much.

Peter inclined his cute little rabbit head towards her, and Gamora took it for the invitation it was.

She was surprised to find they were fuzzy too- not quite velvet, but more like the soft fuzz on a peach just before you took your first bite. Except, unlike in the fruit scenario, there wasn’t anything soft underneath here.

At first she was curious to see if they would be more like boar’s tusks, or horns just in an unusual placement, but no- they truly were antlers. The kind that bucks would get into sparring matches with, the loud fights that echoed when they clashed. Gamora was surprised to find they were warm to the touch- did that mean they were still growing?

As a werewolf, one of the many predator/hunter creatures, she had to take some courses on animals of prey back at the academy. Part of staying hidden from the rest of the world meant being ecologically conscious and leaving no mark- understanding animal’s rhythms, their environments, steering clear of endangered populations, and so on. Part of it was also self defense. Creatures like deer had not horns made of keratin nor tusks made of dentin, but solid bone branching off from their skull, and could really do some damage with them. To any predator, supernatural or otherwise.

She wasn’t sure how much natural deers shared in common with cryptids when it came to antlers. Would Peter shed these antlers with the seasons too? Or were they permanent fixtures?

Gamora followed the tip of the antlers to the base with an almost reverent touch. Scratch that, definitely reverent. She was enamored with the feeling of them, the texture gliding underneath her fingertips.

When she started scratching right behind his sweet little ears (or not so little), she was delighted by the thumping of his back foot that the action spawned. She had to stop after a few moments, because a rabbit’s foot thumping reflex was strong and starting to hurt, but she tucked the information away in the back of her mind for future reference.

“What do I call you?” She was scratching under his chin now, something he appeared to _love._

Peter didn’t even get what she was asking at first, but then he realized she wanted to know what he was- what this creature was called. For a moment he was surprised she didn’t know, but then realized he should’ve been expecting that. Lots of people didn’t. Lots of creatures and cryptids didn’t. Wasn’t really one of the more popularized types.

And like- Gamora was a werewolf. They made movies about those. All kinds of books too. Not so much his species.

“Jackalope,” Peter answered.

Gamora jolted with a startled little erp at the sound of his voice.

“You can talk like this?” Her eyes widened.

She could only growl or howl or whine when she was in wolf form. Every cryptid she knew that shifted into a creature- they were only able to make vocalizations in accordance with an (albeit supernatural) animal’s ability.

Peter nodded, rubbing his chin against her fingers that had momentarily stopped scritching until she had resumed her former ministrations. “Can mimic voices like this too,” he elaborated, eyes drifting shut at the pleasant chin scritches.

She had almost forgotten about that. The way he had mimicked the voice of one security guard in order to fool another. It seemed that jackalopes were rather wily creatures.

Werewolves relied more on brute strength, their teeth and claws powerful deterrents. If that wasn’t enough, their viciousness was world renowned. That was how they dealt with… adversarial situations.

A small, unassuming (cuddly looking) rabbit with antlers- something that real wolves would undoubtedly consider prey- who were able to speak and mimic human voices with perfect accuracy-

It suited him.

“I still can’t believe you took this long to tell me.” All this time, and he was something furry too! She hadn’t known what he was- could’ve been a dragon, or a mermaid, a spectre- any number of things. But no, he had fur like she did. Well, his fur was much, much softer than hers, but you get the point.

“We could’ve been having soft, furry cuddle piles this whole time,” Gamora lamented.

Normally she would never do such a disservice to her wolf form as to call herself something soft and furry that enjoyed snuggles, but next to Peter, oh-ho-ho. He was adorable. Sign her right up for the cuddles.

If saying that they could’ve shared furry snuggle piles made him feel less embarrassed about being the softest goddamn adorable thing she’d ever seen, then it was a small price to pay.

“Yeah, ’long as you don’t eat me,” Peter grumbled. Gamora’s werewolf form was quite a bit larger than the average wolf. Quite a lot more dangerous than one too.

Gamora smiled at him awful fond. “I would never eat you.”

Peter settled into her lap with a huff, and Gamora’s fingers returned to his fur, stroking his back.

Oh yes, they were definitely going to start doing cuddle piles in their other forms. For now, Gamora had the cutest jackalope snuggled up for a nap on her lap, and she couldn’t be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did u kno???  
Jackalope Peter is v cute
> 
> ps. kudos and comments make author feel very good inside
> 
> Also, lemme know if you've got any starmora mythical creature AUs/ideas/headcanons you wanna see, because I am very much in the mood for writing some  
(I mean, I already wrote quite a few starmora AUs that fall into this genre, if you liked this and are interested  
[Forest Spirit!Gamora/Fairy!Peter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20463692)  
[Vampire!Peter/Werewolf!Gamora](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18284294)  
[Fallen Star!Peter Quill](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19437658)  
[Siren!Gamora](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18652297)  
[A quick magical realism AU (drabble)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20693414)  
And even [this one here where Gamora has ESP and Peter is an Eldritch abomination](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19099627)  
so it's not like this is anything new.  
I probably shouldn't call this a mood, though. I think this might just be my life now)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know how last time I helped you out, you promised you’d ‘lose my number’?” Peter asked sarcastically, going to their usual antagonistic banter before the smoke even cleared. “Guess that’s what I get for trusting a hunter.”
> 
> He let out a huge huff, because never let it be said that he wasn’t the most dramatic demon around. “I mean, some of us have _lives._”
> 
> That wasn’t true in the slightest, and they both knew it. Hell was boring as, well, hell. Besides, they both knew it was a joke when she said that last time he was topside. If you couldn’t have friendly banter with the hunter who had your sigil memorized, what could you do?
> 
> The first clue Peter had that something was off this time around was when he realized the circle he was standing in wasn’t restricted at all. The grin fell off his face as he felt the full access to his powers. There weren’t _any_ protections put in place.
> 
> That’s not something an experienced hunter like Gamora would _forget_ to draw on a summoning sigil. No matter how well they knew each other, and how close to actual friends they had gotten.
> 
> No way, no how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter was significantly lighter in tone than this one shot, fyi
> 
> If you're just here for fluff and humor of the mythical variety- we'll be back to lighthearted cryptid shenanigans in chapter 3. There's gonna be mermaids!

“You know how last time I helped you out, you promised you’d ‘lose my number’?” Peter asked sarcastically, going to their usual antagonistic banter before the smoke even cleared. “Guess that’s what I get for trusting a hunter.”

He let out a huge huff, because never let it be said that he wasn’t the most dramatic demon around. “I mean, some of us have _ lives._”

That wasn’t true in the slightest, and they both knew it. Hell was boring as, well, hell. Besides, they both knew it was a joke when she said that last time he was topside. Gamora had his summoning sigil memorized, and he totally didn’t mind that a demon hunter (among other things) knew how to draw his sigil.

It was pretty much routine by now. Gamora would summon him, set out the stipulations for this _ job _, bind him, then break the protections keeping him immobilized and powerless. They’d spend the next few days, weeks, however long necessary on the job she needed a demon’s help to complete.

It was actually pretty fun, this working relationship they had. The friendly enemies and verbal sparring they had going on. With actual teamwork. They could almost be called partners if she wasn’t a hunter and he wasn’t a demon bound by his summoner.

Sure, the first few times were a little rough, but then _ bonding _happened. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement- Peter provided his expertise with minimum whining, used his supernatural abilities where necessary or if he felt like it, while Gamora was his visitor’s pass to this mortal plane, and he got to experience the human world instead of the bland monotony of hell he resided in the rest of time.

If he liked making the stoic hunter laugh more than he should, and if Gamora introduced him to more snacks than strictly necessary, that was between them.

(If Gamora liked the way his eyes lit up with such an innocent excitement at every hotel room, like two beds and a tv could ever really be that different from any other cheap hotel room, well… Peter didn’t have to know that either.)

The first clue Peter had that something was off this time around was when he realized the circle he was standing in wasn’t restricted at all. The grin fell off his face as he felt the full access to his powers. There weren’t _any_ protections put in place.

That’s not something an experienced hunter like Gamora would _ forget _to draw on a summoning sigil. No matter how well they knew each other, and how close to actual friends they had gotten. They were basic precautions. The circle was supposed to act as a barrier, one the demon couldn’t pass or get out of until the summoner released them, or- if the demon wasn’t agreeable to the summoner’s terms- sent them back to hell.

The circle around him was already starting to fade when the smoke cleared. No barrier, no power constraint, no nothing.

He should be happy. This was a demon’s dream come true. No contracts, no rules, no _ limits_. Just set loose- nothing holding him back, no one to rein him in.

Peter felt sick. Something was very, very wrong.

And… where was Gamora? Usually the first thing he saw was her smirking at him, cocked hip, a spark in her eye, saying _I’ve got a job for you._ But she wasn’t in his line of sight at all.

It didn’t make sense. Demons could tell who was summoning them, he _ knew _ it was Gamora, but everything about this felt off in a way he couldn’t quantify, a way that had every alarm going off in his head, a way that had him worried and _ scared_. There was a trickle of dread in his gut that he knew meant bad news.

He gave the room a preliminary sweep, but it wasn’t until he turned around that he found what he was looking for. There.

Gamora. On the ground, slumping back against the wall, breath ragged and strained. She’s injured, bleeding heavily, too weak to even sit up without the wall to support her.

He could see the sheen of sweat from where he stood. She looked paler than he’d ever seen her- _ blood loss_, his mind supplies numbly.

Her fingers are dark and dripping at her side. She drew his summoning sigil in her own blood.

“Hey Peter.” Gamora greeted him with a weak smile, her voice raspy and faint. “You know anything about healing?”

Peter should go. He should walk away. How many centuries had he spent planning what he’d do if he ever got an opportunity half as good as this?

Gamora’s a good hunter. He has no doubt that she’d be able to send him back once recovered.

He wouldn’t have to worry about anyone being on his trail if he just left. She’s the only one who knows he’s up here. As long as he didn’t murder anyone or wreak too much havoc, it would be ages before any hunter figured out there was an unrestrained demon walking the earth.

He could do so much with that.

He should leave. Mortals die. Everybody knows that. Hunters expire quicker than the rest of them- there’s a high turnover rate. It’s expected. He should be expecting it.

Everybody who goes into the business of hunting supernatural monsters is well aware the years and decades they’ve sheared from their life expectancy by doing what they do.

Mortals die. And hunters die sooner than most. This is the natural way of things. You make a livelihood out of hunting creatures far deadlier and far more powerful than you could ever be, and all it takes is just one time where it’s not your lucky day, and you’re killed by the very thing you’ve spent years vanquishing.

Peter is a _ demon_. He should walk away from the dying demon hunter who summoned him, enjoy his freedom- as free as a demon ever can be.

He had plans, you know? First starting with eating an ungodly amount of sugar, savoring the flavor, all of the senses in the human world that were so bright and beautiful and _ loud. _

He’s got new candy he wants to try. And churros. He didn’t get a chance to eat one last time, but they sounded delicious. Churros were on his list of _ stuff to do, things to try. _

But… he wanted to try churros with Gamora. She said he’d love them. Gamora was always coming up with something he needed to _ experience_, and sharing that with him.

He should walk away. He’s a demon. He can locate churros on his own.

Instead he stumbles forward, pulled by a string, and gets to work.

“What did this?” He whispered, finally seeing just how bad it was now that he was kneeling beside her.

Something’s taken a chunk out of her side, but it was the decaying flesh around the wound that had him worried. Sure, it’s not like the rest of her got off easy (he thought her leg was broken, she’s scraped up to shit, gashes on her arms from fighting, her leather pants torn like something with talons had been digging into them, she’s just all around bad). But the injury on her stomach- it’s center mass. Something shredded into her with what looked like claws. There were black and purple marks spreading on her skin, radiating from the wound. Some kind of poison leaching into her system.

But the actual edges of her injury- it was more than just poison.

Peter had never seen this kind of decay. It was like her flesh was deteriorating, everywhere that came into direct contact with whatever did all this damage.

“Would you believe me if I said I don’t know?” Gamora asked with a laugh. It was that wet, hopeless kind of laugh that someone only makes when they know they’re dying.

Peter believed her alright. He didn’t know anyone or anything that could do something like this. And Peter knew _ a lot_.

“This is gonna suck,” he muttered. More so for him than her.

Peter bit his thumb, deep and quick, and let his blood drip into her wound.

_ Fuckin' mortals and their easily damaged bodies. _

“Hey, so I’m not gonna look like me after this,” he warned her. “So don’t, like, slay me or whatever.”

Luckily, he’d have enough time to tell her the important stuff before it took effect.

“You ever see a demon in it’s true form?” Peter asked conversationally, even though he was sure he already knew the answer.

Gamora frowned, brows furrowing in concentration. “You mean when they go all monster mode and- demon looking?”

“No, I mean a demon without a vessel.”

Gamora’s eyes widened. She swallowed. “I… I guess not.”

“Cool, so don’t freak out. Ignore the inhuman screaming. Don’t kill me. Don’t let anyone else kill me,” he continued with the grace of a flight attendant detailing emergency procedures to a plane full of passengers who weren’t really listening anyway. “It’s not just banishment. It’s gone for good, no more existence. So seriously, don’t let anyone kill me.”

He was both relieved and panicked to feel the tingling edging in that meant it was getting started. And by tingling, he meant burning, like ephemeral battery acid except way worse in every possible way. He knew it was only going to get worse from here. Better finish up quickly.

This wasn’t something that a demon would normally reveal to a mortal, but then again, this is not something that any demon would ever do. Peter was a fucking dumbass, what else is new?

“I’ll probably look pretty fucking nightmarish for a few days, and pretty drained and… vulnerable,” his mouth tasted like tar, his tongue thick and heavy. He’d already lost the sensation of feeling hot or cold. Too bad he didn’t need a vessel to feel pain.

“Don’t send me back,” Peter said, looking into her eyes, because this was maybe the most important part. “I’d rather die for good than go back not able to defend myself.”

At the seriousness and intensity of his request, Gamora could only nod. She didn’t look away. Her eyes kept flickering back between his. He wondered if she could already see the burning.

“This transfer fucking sucks, so when there’s a creature of unimaginable horror shrieking in pain, do _ not _ fucking kill me.” There was no real way to prepare her for seeing a demon’s true form. Hopefully he’d get the _ don’t kill Peter _message through her head enough to stick around to forgo instincts when she would be a mortal confronted with pure nightmare fuel any second now. And Gamora’s hunting instincts were pretty strong.

Peter cursed under his breath, some dead language that probably hadn’t been uttered in this plane for centuries. “You’re so lucky I like you,” he said, shaking his head at himself. He already regretted every decision he’d ever made in his whole immortal existence. “You owe me big time, and I will never forgive you if you let me die.”

He started scooting away from her then, remembering that this wasn’t exactly something you’d wanna be close to. “And, uh, don’t touch me,” he added quickly. “A demon without a vessel isn’t something you wanna feel.”

“Peter?”

His vision was already fading, but he’d already seen the decay start to wash away from the edges of the claw marks. Her voice sounded stronger too.

“You’ve probably got time for one question, Gamora.”

“Thank you,” she said. “For not leaving.”

“Yeah, well…”

He wasn’t able to finish that thought before the room was flooded with a burst of bright, hot light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote literally every single word of this today, which I am very hyped about, but that means there might be a few typos I won't catch until tomorrow.
> 
> But yay! I hope you liked it!
> 
> Most of the AUs in this one shot collection will be lighthearted romance, but this one just came out of me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're a menace," Peter puffed, but there's none of the venom in his voice that the words imply.
> 
> Sure- he didn't sound happy, his voice strained, likely very fed up with the teasing, but it was delivered with the same tone he usually hisses 'land dweller' in that half joking, half serious way of his.
> 
> That accusatory tone he takes on when she does something that's totally contradictory to the customs of someone who'd spent their whole life under the seas, or something he just thinks is straight up weird- and he does that cute little scrunchy face before saying land dweller like it's a dirty word. You know. That tone.
> 
> Or the one he uses when the teasing got too much for him to bear in the bedroom and he got all _sexually frustrated_. They weren't in the bedroom, though.
> 
> No, she’s treading water, and Peter looks absolutely breathtaking. The cool waves lapping at them are a delight under the warmth of the sun. It really is picturesque.
> 
> "Really? I thought you liked this," Gamora smirked, all light and sing-songy just to taunt him.

"You're a menace," Peter puffed, but there's none of the venom in his voice that the words imply.

Sure- he didn't sound happy, his voice strained, likely very fed up with the teasing, but it was delivered with the same tone he usually hisses 'land dweller' in that half joking, half serious way of his.

That accusatory tone he takes on when she does something that's totally contradictory to the customs of someone who'd spent their whole life under the seas, or something he just thinks is straight up weird- and he does that cute little scrunchy face before saying land dweller like it's a dirty word. You know. That tone.

Or the one he uses when the teasing got too much for him to bear in the bedroom and he got all _ sexually frustrated_. They weren't in the bedroom, though.

No, she’s treading water, and Peter looks absolutely breathtaking. The cool waves lapping at them are a delight under the warmth of the sun. It really is picturesque.

"Really? I thought you liked this," Gamora smirked, all light and sing-songy just to taunt him.

When she shimmied up closer to him she raised her hand, to cup the back of his neck, but Peter caught her wrist before she ever got there.

It was just a reflex thing, out of the corner of his eye, it was instinct to catch the hand coming for him so hard and quick, to stop and keep at bay whatever was coming towards vulnerable parts of him when instinct was a little stronger than normal right now.

Peter's grip was unusually tight, his whole body tense. Sometimes it was easy to forget how strong he was. Not now, when he automatically caught her hand with an iron grip in a move that seemed almost dangerous.

Gamora stayed still, didn't try to pull away, or escape his hold, just waited.

Two seconds later Peter exhaled through his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut, and he guided Gamora's hand into gripping onto his hip before relinquishing his hold on her.

Apparently now was not the time to get all handsy with his neck area. She made sure to file that away for future recurrences.

She didn't know why, but that really turned her on just now. Like a lot.

Gamora squeezed his hip, moving downward to rub at his scales, and Peter full out moaned.

"Sure sounds like you're having a good time," she smirked. "Sounds like you like it a whole lot, babe."

"I don't," Peter groaned, arching his back as the water lapped up around them, cool and wet. "I regret ever telling you about this."

This being the mermaid thing that was going on right now. Mating season. When he told her about it- well how could they not come out on the water? This she had to see. Had to feel with her own two hands.

And she wasn't disappointed. Having Peter this desperate and worked up by doing pretty much nothing was awful fun. So was winding him up further.

She wasn't heartless, though.

As hot and heavy teasing always made him, this wasn't just a regular level horniness he was experiencing. And she had no intention on holding out on him.

Gamora leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "What do you want, Peter?"

Just her tone made his breath hitch, the promise in it. He wanted her so bad. Wanted so much. He couldn't even think. Needed to feel her.

"_Touch me,_" he begged.

So she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are loved and hoarded like the precious gems they are


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was here first. You’re the one who decided to make my roof your perch,” the woman says coldly.
> 
> Peter’s reply is automatic. “I don’t see your name on it,” he shoots back, finally landing on one of the jutting planks, a comfortable distance between them. It is a very nice roof.
> 
> Gamora stares at him in almost disbelief. “I was already there!” She defends. “My name doesn’t have to be on it when it’s already clearly taken _by me_.”
> 
> Peter cocks his head to the side, looking more like a bird than his feathery wings already implied.
> 
> He takes a moment to scan the rest of the roof, his eyes lighting up when he realizes the change in scenery and makes the connection.
> 
> Then, he narrows his eyes, and Gamora can’t tell if he looks annoyed or offended. “Wait, have you just been pretending to be a statue for the past 45 minutes?”

"You talk too much."

The sudden voice nearly startles Peter out of his skin, and he jumps off the roof, wings catching him in the air as he flips to see whoever just popped up beside him.

"Where did you come from?" His wings beat behind him, a little anxious double beat like his skittering heart. He can't help it. The wind's got him all keyed up. Usually it’s nice, when the wind’s all cool and quick and he can feel it under his skin, but it makes it harder to settle down.

"I was here first. You're the one who decided to make my roof your perch," the woman says coldly.

Peter's reply is automatic. "I don't see your name on it," he shoots back, finally landing on one of the jutting planks, a comfortable distance between them. It is a very nice roof.

Gamora stares at him in almost disbelief. "I was already there!" She defends. "My name doesn't have to be on it when it's already clearly taken  _ by me. _ "

Peter cocks his head to the side, looking more like a bird than his feathery wings already implied.

He takes a moment to scan the rest of the roof, his eyes lighting up when he realizes the change in scenery and makes the connection.

Then, he narrows his eyes, and Gamora can't tell if he looks annoyed or offended. "Wait, have you just been pretending to be a statue for the past 45 minutes?"

The woman looked nothing like the stone creature he had already thought of as a friend.

It was quite a scary looking one. The inanimate sculpture posted at the end of the roof was frozen in attack pose, a mix of monstrous features that couldn’t seem to agree with itself, molded scales and feathers and ridges, musculature unnatural, and just all around not something he’d want to come across in the middle of the night.

The stone carving had wings though, and that was enough for a lonely Peter to decide to land and talk to a stone statue like it could actually respond.

He was just talking to himself, really. He’d never heard of a shapeshifter disguising themselves as a living statue, had no reason to suspect his new stony friend was actually alive.

Honestly, Peter had never met another supernatural creature that wasn’t on earth. He kinda didn’t think that shapeshifters or their kind existed anywhere else.

But this woman was green. Definitely not human.

They were a long way from Terra anyways.

“ No,” she sneered. “I wasn’t pretending to be anything. I’m a gargoyle, asshole. I kept hoping that you’d get bored and fly away. But you  _ never shut up _ .”

The blank look he gives her makes her sigh. Then she flaps out large stone wings out of nowhere, and mid snap they freeze to granite, effortless, right in the middle of motion, back to a sculpture that was a captured piece of time. “I can’t pretend to be what I am.” She releases her wings from their hold, and then they’re gone. “I  _ thought  _ if I stayed still you’d go away, but clearly that’s hopeless.”

“Can you fly with those?” He asks, curious.

Gamora narrows her eyes at him. “If I want to.” She makes it sound like a threat.

He fucking beams at that, and she has a feeling her roof won’t go back to quiet solitude anytime soon.


End file.
